Page 103 of Ophelia's Vampire

I shoot Audra a quick message with a pin to our location, and a couple of minutes later she materializes from the shadows, apparently also having got the memo to deck herself out in all black.

“Devin’s got the wire on,” she says, keeping her voice low as she peers through the trees around the cemetery’s walled perimeter, trying to get a glimpse of him through the tombstones. “And Derham should be here any time now.”

“What the hell does Devin think he’s going to accomplish?” I ask, and Audra just shakes her head and lets out a frustrated breath.

“He wants to stick it to the man, I guess, and tell Derham where he can shove his bribe. And he’s feeling all guilt-ridden and noble about getting more evidence we can use to expose the whole campaign. Kids, am I right?”

“We could put a stop to this,” Cas suggests. “Devin might not be pleased about it, but a little light kidnapping never hurt anyone.”

We all glance to where a slim male figure has stepped onto one of the graveyard’s winding paths, standing just outside the glow from a wrought-iron lantern mounted on a pole beside the path.

“No,” Audra says. “I want to back his play. The evidence he’s already handed over is good. We’ve got messages, financials, but getting this recording would be the final nail in the bastard’s coffin.”

“A fitting location to obtain such evidence,” Cas murmurs wryly, catching my eye over the top of Audra’s head

He gives me a long, silent look, and I’m surprised to find I can read it immediately. A pulse check, a confirmation of whether I’m alright moving forward on this, an unspoken trust lingering in his gaze that tugs again on the tender spot that’s been sitting under my ribs all evening.

I give him a nod of confirmation, and he returns it, a soft smile on his lips.

Serra returns a few seconds later from making a preliminary surveillance loop around the graveyard.

“We should split up,” she says. “Two of us here, two of us on the other side to get another visual. Audra, you alright hanging with me?”

Audra nods slowly. “I… yeah, I guess I am. I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be if something goes wrong, though. My area of expertise is more with reporting the story than being a part of it, you know?”

“Understood,” Serra says. “If it hits the fan, you split, yeah?”

Audra nods again, and the two of them take off, making their way further down the shadowed street to circle around the other side of the cemetery.

It leaves Cas and I alone, sticking to more of those shadows, eyes fixed on Devin as he pulls his phone from his back pocket and frowns at it.

“Think they’re going to stand him up?” I whisper.

“Possibly. Though they might just be…”

He trails off, and I follow his gaze to where a black SUV has just pulled up on the adjacent street. I can’t make out the plates or the driver from our obstructed view point, but four figures get out of the vehicle and make their way through the cemetery’s gates. The first is Derham, followed by a younger man and woman who seem like they might be campaign aides of some kind as they barely look older than Devin, and the fourth is…

“Well, shit,” I breathe. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Mayor Haverstad rounds out the group as they descend on Devin.

I’ve got to give credit where credit is due. Devin doesn’t flinch as the mayor and his cronies approach, and holds his ground as words are traded back and forth. We’re too far away to make out most of them, but from the way Derham steps closer and put himself bodily in front of Devin, it’s clear they’re not having a friendly chat.

“Let’s get closer,” Cas says.

We stay low and tucked against the cemetery’s outer stone wall, taking care to make sure we’re still unseen as we enter through a side gate and keep to the shadows and tombstones well away from the path and the light of the lanterns.

Ahead of us, Haverstad rests a hand on Devin’s shoulder and draws him a few steps away from the rest of the group. Whatever he says to the younger man must not land particularly well, because Devin gives his head an adamant shake.

My eyes dart back to the other three figures, just in time to see the young male aide turn slightly away and put a hand into his pocket. A moment later, something in his hand flashes in the moonlight.

“Fuck,” Cas whispers.

“What?”

“Silver. The bullets he’s about to put in that…”

He trails off, and we both watch as the man pulls a gun from his other pocket and loads the bullets inside before tucking it away again.

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